After the feast at the Pelennor, they walked from the First Circle to the Sixth with the Dol Amroth family. Imrahil and Amrothos remained behind at the Pelennor, for in the morrow the Host of the West would march together to enter the City. Erchirion was part of the Host, having fought valiantly at Mordor. But for the night, he chose to join Elphir and Lothíriel at the Dol Amroth house in the Sixth Circle.
As they reached the Sixth Circle, Faramir and Éowyn bade his cousins good night. Then they were again walking hand in hand towards the Houses of Healing.
Éowyn held his hand between hers. “Your last night as the Lord of Gondor.”
Faramir nodded.
“Have you any regrets?”
Faramir shook his head. He caressed Éowyn’s hand.
“A touch of sadness?”
Faramir nodded. “Yes, a bittersweet feeling. Joy for the return of the King and a new beginning for Gondor, pride and relief that my house has fulfilled our duty. Yet of course I feel sad that the days of the Stewards—the only life I have ever known—will come to an end.”
His gaze went towards the Citadel above them, where the banner of the Steward floated from the Tower of Ecthelion, as it had for as long as anyone could remember.
“Tomorrow when the banner of the Steward is lowered, it will be unnatural if I do not feel sad,” he said.
Éowyn wrapped her arms around his arm, and rest her head on his shoulder. “Did I tell you I am proud of you, of your choice concerning the King?”
Faramir kissed the top of her head. “You could tell me again, I am a mere mortal who enjoys praise every now and then.”
“It takes great courage to do what you have done, my lord. Most lords would have clung to their power.”
“Thank you.” He took her hand and held it close to his heart. “If I were to regret aught—if you would call it regret—it would be that you, a daughter of kings, most fair and noble, shall not be the Lady of Gondor. It did cross my mind, that I should hold on to my position, or at least to negotiate a position with the King, for your sake.”
He stopped walking and turned to face her. “But I could not bring myself to do it. Forgive me for thinking only of myself in this matter, Éowyn.”
She looked at him, then shook her head in wonder. “Thinking only of yourself? Your conduct in this whole matter of the King has been ...” She paused, searching for the right words, “... more unsparing of self than I thought a man could sustain. As for me, I told you that I no longer desired to be a queen.”
She paused again. Then, deciding that the surge of love in her heart should not be checked by a cold counsel, she gently placed her other hand on his cheek and spoke again, “But even if it were something I desired; if you ever have to choose your duty over my desire, beloved, I give you my assent.”
For a long moment they stood facing each other, in awed silence.
Then he asked, his voice thick with emotion, “May I kiss you?”
“You certainly may.”
Whatever else Faramir might have lost, he knew he had found a treasure more precious than even the Elven-tongue could tell.
...